Tattered Hearts and Beaten Souls
by iamthe0cean
Summary: "It was our love that had torn us apart, whether we knew it or not." My first fanfiction - rated M for upcoming strong language and possible future chapters. Please read and rate, thank you in advance!


Untitled

Chapter One

"Bristol, are you almost ready?"

Why did dresses have to be so difficult to zip up? It just made life more challenging to place the zipper in the back. That meant that your hands had to frantically try to grab the small piece of metal. Then, there was the task of actually pulling it up the length of the outfit without getting it caught on the fabric to avoid sudden rips that couldn't be repaired in time for the event. Asking someone was normally the easier choice of the two – but that meant drawing attention to yourself while there were people busily preparing for a wedding that wasn't yours, making you appear both selfish and incompetent. This was to be avoided at all costs, if possible. But when you've been struggling against the cloth for over fifteen minutes, sometimes your ego couldn't be spared.

"Would you mind zipping me up, George?"

There was a heavy sigh, but sure enough, George Weasley managed to drag himself across the room. Instead of wearing a pair of ratty sweat-pants or drooping shorts paired with some Quidditch team shirt on, he was actually wearing a purple pinstriped suit with a silk mint-green vest and white undershirt paired with a pale yellow tie. His red hair clashed something awful with his outfit. He had cut it short ever since he began to work at his joke shop – Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The business he co-owned with his twin-brother was becoming a rapid success. He'd been less apparent in the home – sleeping, eating, and of course working in their new shop rather than staying home. He seemed taller than before, stretching inches above six feet tall, shoulders broader and more muscles rather than the gangly young man she remembered a few months back – less boyish and manlier. Blue eyes still had their same twinkle mixed with mischief and adoration at the same time. A bandage was wrapped around his head and covered the still healing wound where his left ear used to be until it was hit by Bellatrix Lestrange in a flying incident. There was still the haunting memory of him lying on the couch, eyes closed and color completely washed out of his face while the ruby blood continued to pour out of the gaping hole in his head.

"Nice thong," he remarked. "Navy with anchors – rather kinky if you ask me. And not wearing a bra? A bit wild for a wedding, I must say."

"Yes, and after the exchange of vows, I'm planning to take off the dress and run around in my thong with my chest utterly exposed and start shagging the nearest man in sight."

He winked, "I'll be sure that I'm sitting right next to you then."

We both burst out laughing. Our voices echoed through my small bedroom. The room was spare of furniture and rather plain, but it serviced its purpose. There was a small air-mattress in the corner near the window – covered in dozens of colorful blankets, large pillows, and books of every kind. Christmas lights were strung all about, providing most of the illumination instead of the small, dust-covered lamp in the corner. There were various pictures covering the wall nearest my make-shift bed. A fluffy, fake fur rug was placed over the dark mahogany floor. It was so perfect and cozy, better than anything else I could ask for.

"In all seriousness George, how is your ear feeling?" I asked, placing a gentle had on his face.

"The missing one or the one ear I still have left?" he grinned. "I suppose it's feeling fine, though I can't really feel it at all. Isn't it strange how some things work? One moment you're on a broom, feeling fine, and the next, you're sprawled out on the couch and a face of an angle is staring at you with tears in her brilliant eyes, thinking you're in heaven."

"So there _is_ something going on between you and Fred."

George rolled his eyes, a hand running through his short hair, face morphing into an annoyed glare. "Remind me to never, ever try to compliment you again, Bristol. You're a black-hearted she-devil that has managed to enamor me with her wicked charms." He tapped my nose with a long finger. "And aren't I supposed to be escorting you downstairs?"

"With all of this excitement, I haven't been able to check and see how I look," I managed to say over his whines of disapproval.

The full-length mirror waited patiently in the corner. "Mirrors don't lie." I remembered someone telling me once when I was a young girl, though it was hard to believe that I was the girl, staring at her own reflection in disbelief. It didn't look like I had lost all of the weight that I really had - the peach colored dress managed to conceal that. My dark brown hair covered how my shoulders protruded like spheres from the tops of my arms. The sharpness on my shoulder blades couldn't be hidden, though they were only noticeable if you looked hard enough. The strapless neckline and necklace hiding right near my cleavage emphasized on the curves that I had left. The gold pumps made me look less helpless and frail, adding height that I never had before. My amber eyes were highlighted in gold shadow and the lashes were lengthened and lined in black ink. Rose colored lips offered a pleased smile. A young man was standing behind her, looking fondly at her back when he thought she wasn't paying attention, a silly half-smile, making his eyes crinkle in an adorable way.

"My little Bristol is quite beautiful," he whispered in my ear.

I turned to face him, hands on my hips. I frowned deeply. "Wasn't it just a few minutes ago that you were calling me a wicked she-witch?" One of my French-tipped nails jabbed him in the jest accusingly. It left a small indent in the silken vest.

"She-_devil_, love. I'd very much appreciate it if you got your facts straight while accusing me for being a rude git. Now look at this; we're going to be late for the wedding and Mum is going to have a fit. Oh, the things you put me through. I'd say I can hardly stand it if it weren't for your witty humor and beautiful looks."

"Oh, fuck you," I said very offhandedly, picking up a white handbag. Rummaging through it, I managed to find what I had been looking for – the small flower ring that George had given to me when we were very small children. It had been enchanted to fit my fingers no matter how much they grew or shrank, if the case may be. Grabbing a few novels from my bedside, I added them to the collection of rubbage that was probably hiding in there.

"Name a time and place, darling, and I'll be there. And two questions, dear. One – how did you save that ring? I thought you had lost it a long while ago. And two – how in the hell did you manage to throw books in there? It's barely big enough to fit an earring."

"Oh George," I sighed, but managed to smile. "You didn't really think that I had lost this? I've kept it in a very special place for a long time, but I did forget that I had it in my possession. To answer your second question, I had Hermione place an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. You always must be prepared, dear."

He made a face, extending his arm out towards me to take. "You women, I will never understand you. Always prepared even though there is nothing to prepare for."

Smiling innocently at him, I took his arm and he escorted me down the rickety stairs and out into the lawn, where the guests were in full bloom.


End file.
